


The Sound of Two Hands Clapping

by Evil_Little_Dog



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon - Manga, Community: fmagiftexchange, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Edward contemplates the loss of his alchemy.<br/>Disclaimer:  Arakawa owns all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Two Hands Clapping

Edward decided he hated the color green. Well, not all shades of green. It was this particular shade of green, sort of an off-mint color, with little cracks running through it, and the horrible blended smells of blood, piss, poop, death and the antiseptics trying to cover it all. The window wouldn’t open – Edward tried, almost desperate to have some other smell to blow out the hospital room where he’d been stuck after the Promised Day. 

It’d been his first reminder that he’d given up his alchemy, when he’d pressed his hands together in an attempt to break the window free of its frame. He’d touched his palms, and silence rang out, instead of the familiar bell-tone and accompanying crackle, like lightning, and the breeze that tugged at his hair and clothes. Instead, nothing happened, _nothing_ , and Edward had stared for a split second at his hands, as if they’d failed him. 

He remembered how it had felt, almost as if he’d been a _god_ , able to tear down and rebuild anything (except human life – except his _own_ life) with just a touch of his hands together. Now, if he pressed his palms together, there was nothing – just the sound of clapping. 

Except. 

Except when he managed to make his way into the Intensive Care ward, where Alphonse rested in a bed, and Edward could take his brother’s hand in his, and could catch his brother’s own scent under all the masking antiseptic odors. 

Alchemy got them into the whole damned mess in the first place. Maybe giving it up was the best thing – a reminder that he was human, too. His brother’s frail fingers lacing with his own; Alphonse’s sweet smile; the thought that soon, _soon_ , they’d be going home, and see the old hag’s and Winry’s joy; that – 

_That_ might make it all worthwhile.


End file.
